Forever
by bananapancakes666
Summary: stendan marriage fic. starts with them getting engaged just after amy took the kids, don't know where it will end. gonna have a few chapters..very fluffy..not good with the descriptions, just enjoy :)
1. Chapter 1

"Seriously?"

"What?! This film's decent!"

"Fine, whatever makes you happy, Steven." I sincerely doubt that watching The Notebook is going to make either of us happy. It always makes him cry like a baby - even after all these times and it's hardly my type of movie, not enough violence and sex for my liking but I'm willing to compromise if it shuts him up for a few minutes. Besides, I know it's his favourite. And Ryan Gosling's pretty fit. Got nothing on Steven of course, but at least it's something to look at. "Want a drink? Oi've got popcorn!" I cringe just saying it, it sounds so ridiculous, like we're a couple of teenagers going to the movies on our first date. "Popcorn? Ain't you got any haribos?" Such a child. I roll my eyes affectionately and kiss him on the head as I drag myself off the sofa and go and rake through the cupboards to see what I can find. They're practically bare - no wonder he's so skinny. That'll have to change now that I'm living here; takes more than a few slices of bread and a tin of baked beans to satisfy my appetite. Mind you, Steven's doing an alright job.

"You're in luck!" He catches the packet of haribos I found tucked down the back of the cupboard, one of many bribes to get Leah to do as she's told that had been abandoned when she left. I try not to think about it and I settle down next to him, arm thrown over his shoulder his head on my chest. He's already munched his way through half the packet by the time the trailers have finished. His musical giggle vibrates next to my ear and I turn to see that he's got a haribo ring on each finger. Just like Lucas used to do. I sigh and shake my head, pretend that I'm not amused and he holds his hand out for me to kiss, like he's the king and I'm his loyal subject. Cheeky, but accurate. My teeth bite down on the first ring and I tear it off with ease, ignore his sound of mock annoyance that I've stolen his sweet. My tongue wanders to the next finger but doesn't make it to the ring as I playfully suck his index finger. His tongue darts out of his mouth, thinks I don't notice him licking his lips and he looks away in embarrassment when he realises that I did. I suck a little harder before working my way down and wriggling the ring lose. I kiss him and he opens his mouth, allowing me to transfer the sweet onto his tongue. He smiles in delight and I can't tell what he's more pleased with - the kiss or the sweet. His head rolls onto the back of the sofa and he closes his eyes as I continue to suck and remove the rings until only one is left. He opens his eyes, a disappointed scowl on his face when he realises that I've stopped. "Eh, Bren? You missed one!"

He points to his ring finger. "Maybe I want that one to stay there."

"Eh?" He looks at me like I'm speaking a foreign language.

"Oi've lost ye too many times already.. Oi'm not gonna lose ye again." The silence that follows is suffocating and I wonder if I actually said it out loud. I subconsciously hope that I didn't. I shouldn't be starting this because once I do there's no going back.

"Are we actually having this conversation?" His eyes are wide and sparkling and confused and I wonder what I'm doing, fooling myself. Why would someone as beautiful as him want to be with me?

"Look, Steven. Oi'm sorry if its too soon after Douglas but…I…I love ye. I always have..and..and I…I wanna marry you." He freezes as if I've just hit him. I instantly regret it. It's too soon. My eyes burn a hole in the carpet, can't bear to look at him and see the rejection in his expression. Why would I risk ruining this? Everything was perfect. He's perfect. And I've just scared him off for good. I reluctantly raise my gaze to study his face but it's set in an expression of shock and terror.

"Get down on one knee then."

"What?" Really?

"Do it properly." He must be joking. I'm Brendan Brady. I don't do romance. It's not who I am. Then I remember who I am. A freak, a criminal, a murderer. He deserves so much better. But then I look at him, really look. I see his face, and in it I see Leah and Lucas. I see us, baking bread together. Us, in Dublin. Him, making me into the man we both want me to be. Suddenly I've never been surer of anything in my entire life. This is who I am now.

"Steven Hay." I'm immediately aware that these trousers are far too tight to be kneeling in but I continue anyway. "I love ye, Steven. Forever. I can't live my life without ye. I want to give you the future you deserve. Will you marry me?"

The wind is knocked out of me as he flies off the sofa and throws his arms around me, hurling me backwards onto the floor and landing on top of me. "Oh my god, yes!" When the shock wears off, I try to kiss him but he's smiling too much to allow me a proper taste. I can no longer tell if its just the hug that's left me breathless or if its him. My arms reach around him but he squirms away and stands up, looking like he's resisting the urge to dance or jump for joy. He bites his lip, the way he does when he's trying to stop himself screaming my name before he comes. "You alright?" I pull myself up from the floor, go and stand beside him, not touching just watching.

"Yeah. I'm excited aren't I?' I'm getting married!" He throws his arms out and spins round in delight. "To Brendan Brady!" He screams, giggling like he can't really believe it. That makes two of us then.

The pop makes him jump a meter of the bed and I can't help but laugh at the panic on his face. I really shouldn't. I can't blame him for being a bit jumpy after everything he's been through. "Champagne. Thought we should celebrate." He kneels on the bed and reaches out, beckoning me to come to him. "Not like you to drink champagne." His fingers run under my collar and trace my neck lightly.

"Special occasion, innit?"

"Is it?" He teases, moving his fingers down to unbutton my shirt.

"Get engaged every day, do ye?" I duck my head and give his jaw a playful nip with my teeth, punishment for being so cocky.

"Not to a sexy Irishman, no." He winks and I feel him press himself against me. I gravitate towards him, unable to stop myself being drawn to him like my life depends on being as close as I can be.

"And oi'm marrying a council-rat in a tracksuit. I must be mad." That does it. He grabs me by the shirt and pulls me onto the bed, kissing me harder than I thought lips as soft and pink as his were capable of. I shrug out of my shirt, reluctant to break the kiss. Nails dig into my back and I feel myself already hard and anxious to become one with him in every way. He looks me up and down and I'll never get used to that look, the lust in his eyes, the love, like he wants me, like I'm actually important to him.

It still amazes me that someone so skinny and soft can be so strong, how he takes me by surprise, flipping me over so that he's suddenly straddling my hips, grinding his hard dick against mine. I wish I could hide my arousal but if even if my body didn't give me away the grin on my face would. I can't hide anything from him, not anymore. He pins my arms above my head and bends down to drag his tongue up my neck and suck at my earlobe. His name escapes my lips, murmured into his jaw. Lightly, his fingers trace a vein up my arm until they lace with mine and we stay completely still for a minute: just holding hands and looking into each others eyes, a thousand unspoken 'I love you's conveyed in a single look.

The tender moment doesn't last long. I've already shown him too much of my soft side today. I need to remind him who's boss. Suddenly he's under me, lips parted slightly, chest heaving in anticipation. Our hips are still grinding together as I pull his t-shirt over his head. It leaves his golden hair ruffled and I wonder how he can look more attractive the less presentable he becomes. You'd think I'd sculpted his body myself, the way his contours fit so snugly into my eager hands. I run them up and down his chest, which seems larger and more solid now it's free from the confines of his shirt. Fingers pull hurriedly at my belt and I help him discard my trousers, can't believe that I still have them on. Soon, we're both completely naked and I can't prolong this any longer.

He tastes sweet and salty as I wrap my lips around the tip of his cock, circling the head with my hot tongue. I feel a hand tangle in my hair, pushing me down, deeper. I take him in willingly, right to base and shut my eyes. The irresistible whimpers and groans he's making turn me on almost as much as the feeling of his cock at the back of my throat as I lick and suck harder at his command. He tenses as I massage a finger around his hole, as though he doesn't think his body can take such pleasure from more than one place at once. We both know from experience that he can more than handle it.

He comes quicker than I expected, barely have time to slip a second finger in before the warm fluid is squirting down my throat, the only piece of him that I can truly take inside me and keep there. I'm not finished with him yet though. I'll never be finished. He clutches me tight as I scatter kisses along his thighs, stomach, abs until he kisses me back, tasting himself on me. I always found that a little disgusting, but he seems to like it, as though he knows exactly how delicious he is. I don't think he really has any idea, though. I could happily spend all night just kissing him, a kind of intimacy I crave with him that I detested with everyone else. But my dick is impatient and I have to oblige. Sitting up, I hook his legs over my shoulders and he flashes that blinding grin at me, the sudden rush of cold air between his parted cheeks forcing an adorable gasp from his throat. He reaches over for the lube and condom and throws them at me. "Patience, Steven." I tut playfully, but really I'm just as desperate as he is. Lathering myself up quickly, taking care to make sure he's covered too, I grab the condom and tear it open with my teeth. I vaguely recall someone telling me that it's a dangerous way to do it but when you have someone as sexy as Steven spread beneath you, waiting to be fucked, all sensible thinking is completely abandoned. The bed shakes as I slide into him, the heat and tightness of his arse sending shivers right through me. We've done innumerable times and yet its still just as exciting, just as passionate and raw as the first time. More so infact, because then it was just sex, and now its everything. He strains his hips back, fucks me before I have a chance to get started, trying to take control again. Naughty. I push him down and he lands face first into the pillow with an arousing "umph" that I reward with a bite on his shoulder. Lowering myself so that my chest is pressed to his sweaty and tanned skin, I kiss his neck, between his shoulder blades, anywhere that my lips can reach. My hips thrust instinctively, building a steady rhythm until his moans tell me that I'm hitting the right spot. He reaches down, starts jerking himself off and I let him indulge himself, all thoughts of power and control completely erased by the sensual feeling shooting up my cock and into my heart. Someone who can make me feel this special can have anything they want. Deserves anything they want. I notice that he's biting his lip, stopping himself from crying out. Habit, from not wanting to wake the kids. "It's okay." I whisper, lips pressed to his ear. "You can scream now." A moment of pain flashes through his arms as he remembers and I immediately regret reminding him of what he's lost. To make him forget, I arch my back and push into him with everything I have: deeper, more desperately than before. Somehow our bodies are so in sync that we come together and it seems momentous. We're together in every way now. Engaged.

He's hot, sticky, sleepy as he snuggles into his crook under my arm. Where he's supposed to be? "Are you sure you wanna do this, Steven?"

"I do." He says it with such certainty that I almost believe him.

"Practising already?" I'm actually excited. I should be scared, but for the first time since I can remember, I'm not.


	2. Chapter 2

"You're still what?" Surely I misheard. The way Steven looks down at his lap, without immediately denying it worries me. The lawyer clears his throat, shuffling paper and trying to fade into the background. "Look I'll sort it." My hand clasps his arm more roughly than I intend it to as I excuse us and drag Steven from the room, all but throwing him into the deserted corridor and slamming the door shut violently behind us. I make a conscious effort to calm down, remove my hand and shove it in to my pocket before this situation gets any worse. If that's even possible.

"You told me you _**had**_ sorted it, Steven. When were you gonna tell me, huh? That you were still married to that scrawny yank?" He looks at me with that beautiful, arrogant face, like he doesn't understand what the big deal is. "I thought you was alright with Doug now?"

"Yeah, before I knew you were still married to him!" Does he honestly think it's really Douglas that's bothering me. "We just never got around to it Bren!" I swat away the hands he places on my chest in a vain attempt to calm me down. I can barely look at him, let alone feel his touch. "Its expensive, innit, getting divorced? An' it never mattered 'til now! It's just a piece of paper!"

"Not to me it isn't! If you really believe that, why are we even bothering?! A marriage is a marriage, Steven, whether you love the person or not!" His eyes narrow and the atmosphere instantly thickens.

"What, like you and Eileen?" What the fuck does that have to do with anything?

"That's completely different!" This is about me and him and I can't see why he'd bring her into this.

"How?! How is that different?!" He doesn't understand at all, does he? I wonder if he ever has.

"Because Douglas still loves you! He'd take you back in a second! Is that why you never signed the divorce papers, Steven? Insurance in case I fucked it all up again!" It pains me to even entertain the thought. It's always been this unsaid worry between us, like we were both just waiting for me to ruin like I always do.

"Don't be ridiculous! I love you, not Doug!" The conviction in his voice is distracting and for a minute I almost forget how mad I am. All the rage I was feel temporarily fades away and I slump against the wall, staring at my feet. "Then why did you lie to me?" My voice sounds small, reminds me far too much of a time in my life I'd rather forget. "Oh yeah like you've never lied to me!" The insolent tone in his voice pulls all the anger bubbling back to the surface. "Not this time around! I thought things were gonna be different this time, Steven! I thought things had changed!" I don't know how to convey how empty I feel now that everything I believed in has been ripped away from me.

"They have!" He looks anxious, like he can only see this going one way and doesn't know how to stop it. "Yeah, because now it's you ruining everything, not me!"

He recoils like I've hit him, like this hurts worse than when I used to beat him up. I have to resist the urge to reach out to him, to comfort him, to take it back. I can't, not this time. "Bren, don't say that! It's not ruined. I'll get the divorce, okay?" Okay? Like it's all that simple. "Don't bother." I don't mean it but I can't think straight. How could he not tell me? How could he promise to marry me knowing that he couldn't? Not legally. Surely he knows how hard it was for me to do that? He knows that it's taken me this long to even accept that two men can _be_ married. You can take the boy out of the church but…And now it's irrelevant because there ain't gonna be a wedding.

The toilet door bangs shut behind me and the sound vibrates through me, grating on my nerves. I kick it, venting everything I'm feeling at that stupid, inanimate object. When I don't think that the door could take another punch and my vision has returned to focus, I stagger over to the sink, hold on to it like my life depends on the cracked white china. My face is just as white and I feel just as broken. Looking at myself in the mirror, I see just how old I am. The water is ice cold as it splashes across my face but can't wash away the life time of anger and misery and bitterness that's carved into my sullen skin. A little voice in the back of my head tries to assure me that I'm overreacting. Of course he didn't want to tell me - look at how I've reacted. I was wrong, it's still me fucking him up, pushing him away. Fuck. What have I done?

"Brendan?" A timid, tearstained face appears around the door, followed by a cheap suit which looks so foreign on the body that I know better than my own. I turn to face him and we stand there in silence for a moment, both unsure of how to break the ice. "Look, I'm-" I don't want to hear anymore excuses so I shut him up the only way I know how. The kiss takes him so much by surprise that he slams back into the door with a thud. If it hurts he doesn't show it, just opens his lips deeper to allow my tongue to repeatedly collide with his. Nails drag down my back through my shirt and my dick stirs in response, surprised by the direction this meeting has taken. I'm suddenly aware that he has way too much product in his hair and the aftershave he's drowned himself in his overpowering. I hate that he got all dressed up to impress this lawyer, as if he thinks that he isn't good enough in his tracksuit and trainers.

The urge to prove to him exactly how good he is, takes over and the buttons on his shirt new shirt pop off as I rip them open clumsily and run my palm over his burning hot skin. He opens his mouth as if he's about to protest but I kiss him again before he gets the chance, a mesh of tongues and teeth and warmth. He's hard against my thigh now, but not enough. My tongue finds its way to his nipple, circles it and bite down, powerfully enough to draw a gasp of pleasure from his swollen lips. My moustache tickles and he loves it. I can almost see the heat between us, hazy and thick. Legs wrap around my waist and I lift him with ease, turn us round and stumble into a cubicle. It's too small but I could be in a aeroplane toilet right now and it wouldn't matter. His slim fingers undo my fly as I bite at his neck, determined to leave a mark which shows the world he's mine no matter who's name is on that fucking piece of paper. Roughly, I drag his trousers down, let them fall around his ankles and lean back to admire his swollen dick, raised impatiently waiting for me to do something about it. "Hurry Bren!" His breath is hot in my ear and it works. "I can't." I don't have anything on me, no condoms or lube but I don't know if I can resist. He arches his back, grinds our rock hard cocks together, forcing a distressed groan from my lips. He knows we can't, he just loves torturing me.

I settle for jerking him off instead, rub my hand along his shaft, squeezing the tip then licking the pre-cum from my finger. "Again." He moans and before I know it I'm pumping his dick faster and harder than I've ever done to myself. Feeling him hard and throbbing and hot for me makes me super aware that my own dick needs some attention. I reach up and guide his hand, break him out of his own little sex bubble and encourage him to repay the favour. Suddenly my mind is filled with nothing but heat and lust and my wrist hurts from moving so fast but I don't want to stop, don't think I could even if I wanted to. He bites my shoulder in an attempt to quieten himself but he's always been vocal and his curses and groans still echo through the empty bathroom. His legs tighten around my waist as he pumps harder, makes me forget where and who I am because nothing matters except this boy. "I'm gonna come." He pants, relaxes his grip as if to pull away. I know I'll regret it but I don't release him, want to feel him in my hands. I'm close too and I throw my head back in preparation of what's coming.

"Mr Brady?" I drop Steven quicker than I've ever moved in my life, step back so that no part of us is touching. Then I'm super aware that he's practically completely naked from the knees up, except for his shirt hanging open from his shoulders. I immediately return to stand in front of him, try to protect him from his humiliation. It scares me that I'm also feeling jealous that someone else has seen him like this. Now's not that time for my possessive shit. The lawyer stands there, mouth wide in shock, eyes widely taking in Steven's flushed, red cheeks, my red shirt covered in Steven's spunk, my raging hard-on that hasn't caught up with my head yet, Steven's trousers in a heap at his ankles. He looks like he wants to look anywhere but at us but for someone reason he can't. Like a car crash. "Sorry, I…I…I was just…sorry." He walks into the wall, unable to see with his eyes screwed shut and opens them only quickly enough to dart through the door in a flush of mortification. I turn to face Steven, who's covering his crotch with his hands. Bit late for that. I can't help but laugh at his face; mouth and eyes wide open like he can't believe that actually just happened. "It ain't funny!" He protests, snapping out of it, but the corners of his mouth are twitching into a smile. I bend forward to kiss him lightly, ruffling. his hair which refuses to budge with all the gel he's plastered in it. "Let's go home, Steven." Maybe we'll be okay after all.


	3. Chapter 3

_Just a tiny chapter to keep you going while i write a few bigger ones.. thanks for reading...  
_

Who the fuck is that? I open one eye and see Steven reaching for his ringing mobile. "Leave it." I mumble into his neck, catching his arm and trying to drag him back when he moves to get up. "Get off!" he laughs, squirming out of my reach and grabbing the phone. "It's Ameh!"

I've never seen anyone move so fast as he stumbles out the door. I sigh as I watch his naked arse disappear into the living room. He may as well be in the same room, his voice loud as ever. From what I gather from his end of the conversation he must have told her about our engagement. "I told you! He's changed an't he?" and "Yeah, really!" and "yeah, on one knee and everythin'! He just wants us to be happy. An' so do I." I wait for the tears to start and the screaming that these telephone conversations always end with. But it's too quiet. "Seriously?" He sounds like he's about to burst into tears. I knew it. "AMEH I LOVE YOU SO MUCH THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!" What? It's too early for this.

I'm just propping myself up on my elbows, rubbing my eyes and trying to wake up when a tanned, toned body comes flying through the air and slams me back down onto the bed. "What the-?" My words are muffled by the kisses that he's planting all over me face, my moustache, my lips, my nose. "What's goin' on?" I don't want him to stop but my curiosity is getting the better of me. The manic grin on his face is blinding, could be unnerving if it wasn't so damn beautiful. "That was Ameh." My teeth pinch down on the tender skin at his neck. "Thanks, I figured that much. What's all the screamin' about?" He looks like a little boy on Christmas morning, eyes glistening with joy and excitement. "She's gonna let the kids come! To the wedding! She's gonna let them be _in_ the wedding!" Now I get it. We'd dreamed about this, but I'd tried not to encourage him, not let him get his hopes up, convinced that she'd never allow it. "What? How? I mean..what?" I'm speechless. "I know." His lips brush against mine again, playfully. "She couldn't believe it when I told her you'd proposed. I think it convinced her that you really 'ave changed. This is just what it took for her to realise it. And if she sees us, right, sees us at the wedding an' sees how 'appy the kids are she might actually let them stay once in a while! Or come back to us. Then we can be a proper family, can't we? Just like we wanted!" He's getting ahead of himself but I can't take this away from him. Seeing him this happy is addictive, infectious and he's right, maybe it could happen.

All thoughts of sleep are banished as his fingers run down my chest and end up stroking my cock. Now I remember why we stopped wearing pyjamas. His touch is expert - practice makes perfect and we've definitely practiced a lot. He's tender but firm enough to have me arching my back in pleasure. His eyes widen, high on the knowledge that only he can do this to me, reduce me to a panting wreck with only a touch. I can't look away as he slips down the bed and trails his tongue along my shaft before closing those hot, pink lips around the head. He takes his time, gently sucking. Then he's smearing the pre-cum all over his lips, pulling back, forcing me to watch him provocatively lick it off. I could cum just from that sight. He looks sexy enough to be in a porno, but he's too beautiful for that. This show's just for me. When he returns me to his mouth, he takes me right down to the base, no longer teasing. He's so deliriously happy and excited that I'm almost worried that he's going to bite it off. I put a hand on his shoulder in a vain attempt to calm him down, but I don't want to, not really. This is all I ever wanted, for him to be happy, truly happy. Besides, it feels so fucking good, even if it is potentially dangerous. The screams I've been holding in explode from my lips at the same time as he swallows the mess of white sticky heat so willingly that I'm unsure if it actually happened. "Good morning to you too." I smile. It was as though he was trying to show me how happy he was, transfer his joy with his tongue. He should know by now that that tongue brings me nothing but joy, wherever it may be. I close my eyes and enjoy the sensation of his lips kissing a wet trail up my body, planting a final smooch on my lips then rolling away and starting to get up. "Where do you think you're goin?" He seems a bit too eager to get away for my liking. "Got a wedding to plan, ain't I? Lots to do." Nothing that can't wait, I'm sure. "I was hoping I'd be top of your to do list Steven? He rolls his eyes at my corny joke but he jumps into bed and back into my arms before I have time to apologize.


	4. Chapter 4

_It's taken me ages to try and figure out the order i wanted this story to go in but I think i've finally decided (roughly) so i should be updating a bit more regularly now. Not making any promises though. Also wanted to say a big thank you for all the lovely reviews and follows and favourites I've gotten up til now. You have no idea how much they mean to me. Anyway, enjoy..set a few weeks after the last chapter ended.._

* * *

"Steven you're gonna be late." I don't know if he can hear me from under the covers. "Just five minutes longer, Chez won't mind waiting." I want to listen to him, I really do. His fingers are very persuasive. But as much as I love his naked body, I'm not madly keen on the rest of our wedding seeing him this way and if he misses this appointment at the tailors we're both gonna be up there in our birthday suits. I kiss him once more, slow and deep then I roll out of bed and whisk the covers off him, leaving him sprawled on the bed completely naked. He whines like a kid getting dragged off to school and I almost want to give in and crawl back in beside him. But I find the strength from somewhere to walk away with a final "Get up!"

I'm in the kitchen making coffee when he stumbles out of the bedroom, running a hand through his bed-hair and pulling on a pair of tracksuit bottoms. He looks so perfect like that that I want to bend up over the table and fuck him right here. I settle for a quick peck on the lips when I hand him the coffee instead. "What's for breakfast?" I can tell he's not happy about being forced out of bed but he'll thank me later. Somehow he's already got his shoes and t-shirt on but he looks like he's sleep-walking. "You can grab something with Cheryl. Now go!" The slap I plant on his arse wakes him up enough to gasp in mock horror and gesture for me to call him as he runs out the door pulling on his jacket. As always, I feel a little empty as soon as the door slams shut.

I go to the club, make sure it hasn't burned to the ground. I've kinda neglected it lately what with all the wedding preparations but I suppose now I've got a whole day ahead of me to occupy myself. The accounts are failing to keep my attention after about fifteen minutes however and I find myself with a blank notebook and a glass of whiskey in front of me, determined to write my vows. Quarter of an hour, 20 crumpled up pieces of paper and two glasses of whiskey later the page is blank again. This is ridiculous. Steven knows how I feel, why do I need to humiliate myself in front of God knows how many weeping women just because tradition says so. My phone rings making me jump and knock my glass off the table. "Fuck."

"Most people just say hiya you know, Bren." The whiskey's all down my suit and I'm too busy scrubbing at it to take in what he says.

"What? Oh right, sorry, smashed a glass. You okay?" it's just habit now, my immediate response, unable to think about anything until I know that he's okay.

"Where are you?"

"At the club, why?"

"Come home, I've got something to show you." This should be interesting.

"Two minutes." I leave the mess. That's what I pay people for.

I arrive home to find him admiring a red dress that's hanging on the bedroom door, smoothing the creases and adjusting the neckline. "I'm not sure I really have the cleavage required to pull that off, Steven." He startles, hasn't heard me come in. "Christ, Brendan you scared me. And it's for Cheryl, you idiot. Yours is in the bedroom." I go to kiss him hello but he grabs my wrist and pulls me into the bedroom before I have time to pucker my lips. From the corner of my eye I see two little bags beside the dress: Lucas and Leah's outfits. My heart flutters a little from the reminder that I'll see them again soon. Excitement radiates from him as he tugs me through the door. I'm beginning to regret agreeing to let him chose my outfit. My eyes scan the room, trying to see what horror awaits but the only thing hanging up is my red shirt. "Where is it then?" He rolls his eyes at me like I'm blind. "There." He's pointing at the shirt as though it's the only thing in the room. "What? That? The red shirt?" I feel like I'm missing something.

"Yes." He groans impatiently. "That's what you're going to be wearing when ye marry me." All I can do is stare at him incredulously. Of all the things I pictured him picking out for me, this was not one of them. "You're not serious?"

"I'm dead serious. You said I could choose whatever I wanted, right? Well I want ye to wear that. Don't cha remember?" I'm genuinely baffled. This boy never ceases to surprise me.

"Remember what, Steven?" He moves closer, slips his hand under my collar and plays seductively with the buttons of my shirt.

"The cellar? Our first proper kiss..not the drunken peck on the lips, our first. Proper. Kiss." He emphasises each word, like he's talking to an imbecile. Of course I remember, the heat, the sexual tension, the lust, the nerves. I just had more to occupy my mind that night than the colour of my fucking shirt. He leans closer to me, so I can feel his breath hot on my neck and I wrap my hands around his waist, pull him closer.

"Of course I remember." It seems my body remembers too, my dick stirring like it did then.

"You looked proper fit then. Like, proper. I'd never felt anything like the way you made me feel then. So you're gonna wear it." He bites down on my earlobe to make sure I understand that he's telling me, not asking me. He has to stand on his toes so he can reach, but it doesn't make him seem any less powerful. I clutch his arse hungrily, press him into me so every inch of us is touching. "Okay." Whatever he wants, he can have anything. "Plus, red's dead romantic, innit?" I might've known there was more to it. I answer him with a kiss, lips finding each other eagerly and tongues exploring each others mouths like we haven't done this a thousand times.

We spin around and fall onto the bed, Steven already undoing my buttons and shrugging off my shirt and jacket. We break the kiss long enough to slip his t-shirt over his head. As he kisses my adam's apple and reaches down to unzip my trousers a thought flickers through my mind. "Hey, what are you wearing then?" He stops what he's doing and sits up, looking appalled. "I can't tell you that! You have to wait 'til the big day!"He must be joking. He's not really doing this is he? "Are you sure that dress isn't yours?" I'm joking but he reaches for the pillow and smacks me square in the face. It doesn't hurt at all, in fact I like it. "Get off!" he squeals as I roll on top of him and hit him with my own pillow. The pillow fight escalates quickly until there's feathers all around us. He reaches up and pulls one from my moustache and we both laugh and he blows it away and we watch it float to the ground. I'm still straddling him and I can feel that he's now rock hard beneath me. A small, sexy gasp escapes his lips as I wrap my fingers around him and gently begin to stroke up and down. He responds by running his hands over my arms, down my back, tracing my muscles and down to my arse, massaging my entrance tendering. We recently discovered that after all these years, I trust him enough to go there. To let him do what no man has even been allowed to do. Even in the early days with Steven, it was too painful. Not physically, but mentally. It brought back too many memories, so many that I'd shove him away, hurt him, like I hurt anyone who reminded me too much of the past.

But not now. Now I'm so consumed by love and trust for this boy that I can't deny him anything. I don't want to. I want us to be together completely, for our bodies to be as one. My body still resists initially as he slips a finger into my hole, but I make an effort to relax and remind myself that it's Steven and I'm safe. As if he can read my mind, he whispers in my ear, reminds me that he loves me and that it's okay. His voice is enough to open me up and as I start to pump my hand faster on his cock he slips another finger in. The look of pleasure on his face is captivating and I can't tell if its from the sensation of the hand job or the power of knowing he's the only man who's ever done this to me, who'll ever get to do this to me but it sends thrills through me either way. Unconsciously my hips start to rock as I fuck myself on his fingers. I don't know if either of us will ever get used to this, but I'm going to enjoy finding out. "Fuck, Bren!" His head is tipped back on the bed, feathers sticking out of his hair and I can't resist dipping down to kiss his collarbone and dragging my tongue along his perfectly smooth chest. His fingers get faster as the movement of my hand gets quicker and I know that neither of us are going to last much longer. "Steven, I'm gonna come."I tense and feel the orgasm building. "Me too." And we come, together, perfectly in sync. He pulls his fingers out of me and I slide down the bed, slowly lick the hot cum off his stomach, savouring every drop. Aftershocks tremble through him and when I'm convinced he's clean enough, I clamber up the bed and put his head on my chest. "It's a good job I wasn't dressing you or I'd have you walking down the aisle in a leather thong and nothing else." He laughs. He obviously thinks I'm joking.


	5. Chapter 5

_Just a chapter of porn to keep you going while i try and come up with a proper story. thanks for reading_

* * *

"Alright Douglas?" The deli door slams shut behind me but he doesn't look up, too busy balancing the two little men on top of his cake. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to make a moustache that small? You love to be awkward don't you?" He pulls those amusingly full eyebrows together in dissatisfaction as he adjusts the little black-haired figure. "Come on Douglas, Oi'm sure it's easy for a talented young man loike yerself!" It strains me to act so calmly around him but I promised Steven I'd make an effort and the look on Douglas' face when I drag my finger through the icing is reward enough for being amiable. "Urgh, Brendan! You're an animal y'know that!" He laughs.

"Stop it you two!" Steven's tanned face appears from the kitchen.

"What? I thought this is what ye wanted, us gettin' along?" I hope Douglas notices the way Steven subconsciously licks his lips as I seductively suck the icing from my finger. "It is but it still freaks me out. Not used to Brendan gettin' on wi' folk am I?" Douglas busies himself with the cake when Steven kisses me, lingering just long enough to make it inappropriate for company. I slap his arse and raise an eyebrow as Douglas turns and pulls an overly disgusted face. "Gross, get a room you guys!" Steven tries to pull away, embarrassed, but I lock an arm around his waist and press him to my side. "Or, you could pop out Douglas? Give me and Steven here some time to..y'know..prepare for the wedding." Subtlety has never been my strong point. "Brendan! Shut up! Doug you don't have ta go, it's fine!" I wonder if he sounds as unconvincing to Douglas as he does to me. "No, it's alright! I know when I'm not wanted. Just don't make a mess, okay?" He shakes his head as though trying to remove an image from his mind, hangs up his apron and hurries out the door.

"What did ya do that for?" It amazes me that after all this time he still thinks he can play hard to get with me. "Sorry would you rather be bakin' cakes with Douglas? I'll leave ye to it then." I turn towards the door, smiling smugly when he catches my hand in his and pulls me back to him. "Didn't say that did I?" His hands wander to my collarbone, running through the hair peeking out from beneath my crisp white shirt. "Come here." He stands on his tiptoes, reaches out and leans in to kiss me, gently at first then pushing his tongue against mine and humming in contentment. "You taste like icing." He murmurs into my mouth. I laugh against him and wrap my arms around him, hoist him up onto the worktop and start unbuttoning his shirt. "Bren, what ya doin'? People can see!" That's never bothered him before. "And?" He tuts and jumps down from the counter, quickly pulls the blinds and flips the sign to CLOSED when he locks the door. "What?" He asks at my disappointed expression. "Don't want interrupted again, do we?"

I'm about to protest but before I can speak he kisses me again, harder and hotter than before. I lift him back onto the worktop aand he wraps his legs around me, traps me in a welcome prison. We don't break the kiss as he clumsily unfastens my shirt, throws it to the floor. He pulls back, looks me up and down with a hungry look in his eyes that's so appealing I lunge forward and rip his shirt from him, not caring if one or two buttons pop off in the process. I worry that he'll be cold, so I press against him, chest to chest, bare skin touching but he's burning up. Something hard digs into my stomach and I glance down to see a large bulge protruding from his trousers. He cocks his head impatiently, a silent "what are you waiting for?". I don't need asking, eagerly unzip his chinos and slide them down his legs along with his boxers, revealing his hard, pink cock.

The sight of it is enough to send my own dick straining against my clothing. As though reading my mind, he reaches down and pulls it out, stroking it ever so slightly before letting go and leaning back on his elbows so that he crotch is raised to my face. Smiling, I bend down, drag my tongue along the tender skin of his inner thigh before catching his head between my lips. A small gasp escapes his throat and I look up at him, secretly amazed at my ability to take his breath away before I've even started. The feelings mutual, I can feel my heart racing against my chest just from the sensation of him against my tongue. My hands grasp his hips as I begin to suck, slowly at first, tongue lapping at the pre-cum and tracing the veins along his shaft. Gradually, I take him in right to the base, feel the head hit the back of my throat as he raises his hips and fucks my mouth like I could swallow him whole and it still wouldn't be enough. I want to flip him over, move my mouth to his arse and give his hole some attention but he has a thing about rimming in the deli. Unhygienic, he says, as if what we're doing just now would earn him a gold star from health and safety. Anyway, I'm not entirely sure how long we've got til Douglas returns.

"Brendan." His body tenses as he whispers my name and I know he's about to come. I want to tell him to stop, to wait until I'm in him but at least if he comes in my mouth there's less mess to clean up later. I swallow it easy, take a minute to get my breath back then kiss my way up his perfectly toned body. Fuck. It's only now that I notice he's been fingering himself the whole time, been so caught up in what I was doing that I hadn't even been aware that he was preparing himself already. Jesus Christ. He curls his free hand around the back of my neck and kisses me, messy and open so that he can taste himself on me. Dirty fucker. He smiles and I bite his bottom lip until I feel him wince in pleasurable pain. Much as I'd love to sit kissing him all day, my dick is throbbing in anticipation. I retrieve a condom from my back pocket, wriggle out of my trousers and slip it on.

"Y'alright?" I mumble into his neck. He answers me by sliding off the counter and turning round so that he's bent over it, arse in the air, open and waiting. Unable to wait any longer, I slide into him with an involuntary, animalistic grunt. He's tight as ever as he adjusts, muscles contracting, sending indescribable feelings shooting through me. I try to be gentle but I know by now that he can take it and I instinctively thrust in harder and deeper until he screams out my name again. He rocks back onto me, moving with me until we're both gasping for breath. Sweat is dripping down his back and I bend down to lick it off, rolling my hips faster and faster. "God, Steven." I pant, feel my orgasm building, coursing through every fibre of my being. It comes quicker than I expect, overwhelming, blinding but I fuck him through it, wait for him to come again. When he does, he jolts so wildly that before either of us can stop it, his arm jerks out, sending the perfect, newly finished wedding cake cascading to the ground, a smashed mountain of white and red.

We stand, stunned into silence. For a second he looks as though he's about to cry. I smooth a hand through his hair, try to soothe him. Then I see the faintest hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. The look of horror on my face breaks him until he throws his head back, his distinctive howl of laughter echoing through the empty deli. "Waste not want not." Steven gives me look of disgust as I shovel some of the cake the cake that wasn't touching the floor into my mouth. Something tells me this truce with Douglas may be over before it's begun.


End file.
